


where the love-light gleams

by teacupfulofbrains



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mild Angst, background romantic remile, brotherly lomile, merry christmas ariel!!!, romantic analogical - Freeform, spouse server secret santa 2019, they're good boys they deserve happiness, would you believe me if i said the inspiration for the plot came from a commercial
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-27
Updated: 2019-12-27
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:47:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21993181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teacupfulofbrains/pseuds/teacupfulofbrains
Summary: logan is disappointed (but not surprised) when his husband tells him that he won't be home for christmas. virgil encourages him to celebrate, but logan just isn't in the christmas spirit without virgil by his side. it'll take a miracle to get him into the holiday spirit - a christmas miracle.(OR: an analogical holiday gift fic for my spouse squad secret santa!)
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil Sanders/Logic | Logan Sanders, Dr. Emile Picani/Sleep | Remy Sanders, Logic | Logan Sanders & Dr. Emile Picani
Comments: 9
Kudos: 169





	where the love-light gleams

**Author's Note:**

  * For [shesavampirequeen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shesavampirequeen/gifts).



> this is my spouse squad secret santa gift for [@shesavampirequeen](https://shesavampirequeen.tumblr.com/) !! she wanted analogical, and i am HAPPY to deliver! the plot of this fic was inspired by a commercial for indeed 
> 
> CW: mild angst, brief description of sensory overload

**December 20th - 5 days before Christmas**

“So what you are telling me is that you will not, in fact, be home for Christmas?” 

Logan does his best to school his expression neutral, even though logically he is aware that Virgil cannot see him. There is a reason he typically opts to call people on the telephone (when he has to resort to calling them) as opposed to video-calling. Personally, however, he finds that keeping a neutral expression is the best way to maintain a neutral tone of voice, and he desperately needs to do so lest his husband feel any guiltier than he most certainly does. 

“ _I am so sorry_ ,” Virgil says, voice shaking just so to indicate that he’s anxious or guilty or both. “ _I know I said I’d be home this year, I really thought I would be, I swear, but - but it’s just that my boss_ just _told me that the conference dates were adjusted last-minute, because of the snow, and I didn’t have the option to say no because he always steamrolls all over me, and I -_ ” 

“To quote you, _Fuck_ your boss,” Logan says, taking care to enunciate his speech. 

“ _Listen, I share your sentiments,_ ” Virgil says. “ _But listen, Lo, I am so,_ so _sorry that I got your hopes up for nothing, I -_ ” 

Someone shouts off-screen, and Virgil sighs. “ _And that would be my coworkers, who are apparently incapable of finishing any project without me. I’ll talk to you later, alright? I love you, more than all the sand on the beach._ ” 

“And I love you, more than all the stars in the sky,” Logan responds. Despite their current predicament, he can’t stop himself from smiling at the sappy line. “Be well, my darling.” 

He hears Virgil laugh once, softly, before the phone beeps to indicate that the call has been dropped. Logan pulls his cell phone away from his ear, locks it, and then lifts it to illuminate his lock screen. It’s a photo of himself and Virgil from their wedding day, standing under an arch of twining ivy lit with gleaming fairy lights. The full moon is positioned perfectly over their heads. It truly is a stunning photograph; despite his boasting and faults, Remy is an excellent photographer. 

Logan allows himself five seconds to smile sappily at his phone screen before unlocking it with a sigh and tapping on the FaceTime icon to call his brother. The screen rings a few times, and then it picks up to show Emile grinning at the screen. His hair is dyed pink, flopping messily into his face. “Do you how do? Emile speaking!” 

“Hello, Emile.” 

“ _Oh! Hey, Lo! What’s happening?_ ” 

“I just called to give you logistical information concerning the upcoming holiday. You will need to set two fewer places for Christmas dinner this year, as Virgil and I will not be attending.” 

“ _What? Why not?_ ” 

“Virgil’s job necessitates him to stay out of state longer than anticipated. He will not be home for Christmas.” Logan is proud of the way he keeps his voice from shaking. Emile frowns at him, so he suspects that he has not concealed his disappointment as well as he’d hoped. 

“ _I’m sorry, Logan. I know that must be really disappointing for you._ ” 

“It is unpleasant, but expected. Virgil’s boss is very mercurial, and his schedule is not very consistent. I was, in fact, expecting him to be home for Christmas this year, but it is not out of character for him to express such a change.” 

“ _Well, why don’t you come on your own, Lo? I know you don’t like travelling on your own, but my house is only a couple train stops away from yours! We’d really love to have you this year . . ._ ”

“Thank you for the offer, Emile, but I am afraid I must decline.” 

“ _Why is that?_ ” Emile says. Logan frowns at him. 

“Do not attempt to . . . what is the phrase? Do not attempt to ‘therapy me’ into telling you what is wrong, Emile.” 

“ _Hey, I’m just looking out for my womb-mate!_ ” 

“Please do not call me that. I am your twin.” 

Emile laughs, eyes scrunching up. “ _Seriously, though, Logan, tell me why you don’t want to come?_ ” 

Logan exhales forcibly through his nose. “I find that my holiday spirit is significantly diminished with the knowledge that I will not be seeing Virgil on Christmas after all. And since you and Remy are coming to our house for New Year’s festivities, we can exchange gifts then. It will not be that big of an imposition.” 

“ _Logan, I don’t want you to isolate yourself on Christmas._ ” 

“I am not responsible for the isolation,” Logan mutters. 

“ _Lo . . ._ ”

“I do not blame Virgil for his fluctuating work schedule. I know that he does his best to be home when he says he will be home. But this does not reduce or relieve my distress at his absence, and I do not wish to ‘drag down’ the rest of the party because I am pining for my husband.” 

“ _Are you_ sure _, Logan?_ ” 

“I am quite positive. If I change my mind, I will let you know.” Emile likes it when he tacks that onto the end of his conversations. 

“ _Okay, Lo. I’ll see you soon no matter what, alright?_ ” 

“Alright, Emile.” 

“ _I love you!_ ” 

“I love you as well.” 

Logan stares at his lock screen fondly for a few more moments before he sets his phone down and goes about his day.

* * *

**December 21st - 4 days before Christmas**

Logan pushes his shopping cart through the grocery store, eyes scanning rapidly over the brightly colored shelves. He catches a bright yellow SALE sticker on the shelf below his favorite type of jam, and eagerly sweeps an armful into his cart. 

Turning the corner, he pauses over the produce section. He should really pick up a vegetable for dinner tonight, something that will complement the pork log that’s currently sitting in his freezer. He reaches out and picks up a head of cauliflower, twisting it in his hand and humming. He can roast it in the oven and bake it with cheese, just the way Virgil likes. It will be a wonderful homecoming surprise for - 

His heart twists and clenches in his chest. It does not matter if he makes the cheesy cauliflower tonight, because Virgil is not coming _home_ tonight. Virgil will not be home until almost the new year; Logan will be lucky if he sees Virgil again this year, given the general hectic nature of holiday traffic. 

Logan still buys the cauliflower, because he has just spent the past two minutes manhandling it and he doubts that he is allowed to leave it in the store now. He places it in a plastic bag and ties it up with more twist ties than are strictly necessary. Logan hates cauliflower; he only makes it for Virgil, and Virgil is no longer going to be home in time to eat it. 

He sets the cauliflower down with slightly more force than is strictly necessary, determined not to cry in the middle of this supermarket. His phone buzzes in his pocket, and he fishes it out to see a text message from his husband. 

**Vee <3:** _hey there, loganberry. work is shitty, and i hate being here, and i wanna come home and snuggle you in our bed, but i can’t, but i want you to know that i love you and i don’t wanna be here_

Logan smiles fondly at the message, running a single finger along the screen. 

**Me:** _I appreciate the reminder, Virgil. I love you too, and I also do not want you to be where you are._

He slips his phone into the pocket and heads toward the checkout line. The cauliflower taunts him from where it sits in his cart. He does his best to ignore it.

* * *

**December 22nd - 3 days before Christmas**

Logan reaches up behind the ornate faceplate of the grandfather clock and pulls out a tarnished key. He slips it into the prominent keyhole and slowly creaks open the old wooden door. There is an odd amalgamation of things tucked away inside the clock, but Logan sifts carefully through the detritus until he finds what he’s looking for: a second, smaller key, still gleaming and new. He carefully locks the clock back up and hangs the old key on its hook before making his way to the bedroom. 

He unlocks his closet door, slipping the key into his pants pocket. Carefully hidden among the clothes and shoes and spare blankets and keepsakes are the presents he’s purchased for Virgil over the course of the past several months. He normally wakes up early in the morning, while Virgil is still sleeping, to wrap his gifts. 

It is strange, taking the boxes and setting them on the neatly-made bed while the sun is still bright and shining. Most years, Logan finds himself quietly cursing Virgil’s observant nature and the fact that he has to creep around with his husband’s gifts if he wants them wrapped to his satisfaction. This year, he wishes he was awake before the crack of dawn. 

He has the same paper he always uses to wrap Virgil’s gifts, a reflective deep purple with small silver bats embossed on it. He buys a new roll every November and leaves it in the hallway closet, right next to the midnight blue paper with gleaming gold-foil stars that Virgil wraps his gifts in. 

It had hurt, reaching into their hallway closet and pulling out his wrapping paper while seeing Virgil’s roll leaning in the corner gathering dust. Normally, his husband has already wrapped his presents and the roll is dusted off; Logan had closed the door with slightly more force than was strictly necessary. 

His phone rings as he’s carefully pulling the paper away from the tube and laying it along the bed. He pins it down with a box and pulls out his phone, smiling when he sees his husband’s contact name flashing on his touch screen. He swipes his thumb across the _Accept Call_ button. 

“Hello, Virgil.” He can’t stop the grin from spreading across his face. 

“ _Hey, Lo! How’s it goin’?_ ”

“I am wrapping your Christmas presents right now. I will leave them under the Christmas tree as I always do, and you can open them when you come home.” 

Virgil huffs a soft laugh. “ _You know that won’t be for a while, right?_ ”

“I know,” Logan says softly. “But I cannot stop myself from participating in traditions.”

“ _How are you even gonna be around for that? Aren’t you going to your brother’s for Christmas?_ ”

“No,” Logan says. “I am not.” 

“ _What? Why not? Did something change that I’m not aware of?_ ” 

“No, of course not. You are not going to be home for Christmas, so I will not be celebrating with Emile.” 

“ _What are you talking about, Lo?_ ”

“I do not want to celebrate the holiday without you, Virgil. I am not interested in taking the train by myself to spend my holiday in a small, too-loud, too-crowded house with people I barely know. I will celebrate quietly, here, in our house.”

“ _Logan, you can’t give up on Christmas just because I’m not there,_ ” Virgil presses. “ _Seriously, I’m gonna feel so shitty if you give up on seeing your family this Christmas because of my fucking work schedule_.” 

“I will see Emile again at New Year’s, since that will be hosted at our home. I do not need to subject myself to the horrors of traveling without you.” 

“ _Logan, sweetheart,_ please -”

“I have to go, Virgil,” Logan says, biting down on his lower lip to prevent himself from crying and giving away how upset he is. “I will speak to you later.” 

“ _Logan, please, don’t hang up on me_ -”

“I love you,” Logan says softly. A pause, and then Virgil sighs. 

“ _I love you too, Lo. And you know that I’d do anything for you, right? I’m sorry that I can’t be home for Christmas, but - but I - I love you so much. So,_ so _much._ ” 

Logan lets Virgil press the _End Call_ button, cradling his phone against his face for a moment. He closes his eyes and briefly lets himself imagine that it is his husband’s hand warm against his cheek. He knows that it is not, but he allows himself the be surrounded in the delusion before setting his phone down and returning to wrapping the presents.

* * *

**December 23rd - 2 days before Christmas**

“Hello?” 

“ _Lo! Hey._

“Hello, Virgil. It is always a joy to hear your voice.” 

“ _Logan, listen, I have something to tell you_.”

“What is it?”

“ _You’re probably not gonna like it. I’m just warning you now_.”

“Virgil, I am willing to listen to another delay in your schedule -”

“ _No! God, no, nothing like that, Lo. I just - I think you should go to Emile’s Christmas shindig thing._ ”

“Did you just use the word ‘shindig’ unironically?”

“ _So what if I did - Lo, did you hear me?_ ”

“I did indeed. However, I fail to see the point of me going. As I have explained before -”

“ _I know, Lo, but listen, I was talking to Emile and he’s - he’s really sad that you won’t be there._ ”

“He . . . is, is he?” 

“ _Yeah. I - you should really go. Please, Logan? I know you, I know you’re isolating yourself because you don’t want to drag everyone else’s holiday down with your missing me. But you deserve to see your brother and have fun at his holiday party. You haven’t gone in a while, and I know how much you love him._ ”

“I . . . do love my brother dearly. But it - it feels _wrong_ , somehow, to be celebrating with my brother and friends while you are stranded elsewhere at an impersonal hotel convention center and -”

“ _Lo, remember to breathe, please?"_

“. . . . I am sorry, Virgil.” 

“ _No need to apologize, my starlight. Just . . . please, go and have fun with your brother? For me? As long as at least one of us is having a good time this Christmas, that’s more than enough for me._ ” 

“I will call Emile and see if there is still a place for me at the holiday party.” 

“ _You know you don’t have to, right? I just - I want to make sure you have a happy holiday._ ”

“I will never truly have a happy holiday without you by my side, Virgil. But I suppose that I can try my best to be merry.” 

“ _That’s all I wanted, Lo. Do you still have a train ticket?_ ”

“Yes. I purchased a ticket for tomorrow’s train. I had been planning on cancelling it, but I never got around to doing it. I suppose that is for the best now.”

“ _Yeah. Oh, fuck - my boss is calling me, I have to go. I love you, Logan._ ”

“I love you, too, Virgil.”

* * *

“ _Do you how do?_ ” 

“I still do not understand why you insist on answering the phone in such a ridiculous manner.”

“ _Lo! How are you, womb-mate?_ ”

“I will hang up the phone right now if you continue.” 

“ _Seriously, what’s up? It’s not like you to call in the middle of the day like this._ ” 

“I . . . I was just . . . wondering if you still had . . . a place for me at your holiday celebrations?” 

“ _Of course we do, Lolo!_ ”

“My train ticket is for tomorrow, would - would it be possible for someone to meet me at the station? And is it still feasible for me to sleep over at your house?” 

“ _Absolutely! Rem, you’re still clear to meet Lo at the train station, right?_ ”

“If you are not capable of doing so, it is fine -”

“ _Nonsense! Remy’s gonna meet you at the station, okay?_ ”

“That is acceptable.”

“ _See you tomorrow, little brother!_ ”

“We are the same age.”

* * *

**December 24th - 1 day before Christmas**

Logan carefully slides his Marie-Kondo file-folded clothes into the little duffel bag on his bed. He zippers it closed after carefully laying his Ziploc-bagged toiletries on top, pulling his backpack into reach and poking through it. He checks off his laptop, chargers, planner, the novels he’s currently tackling, a few notebooks, his backup headphones, his wallet, and his train ticket. 

His phone pings with a text from his brother. _When does your train leave?_

Logan quickly fires off a response - _I will text you when we pull out of the station_ \- and carefully pulls on his winter coat, taking care to button each of the gleaming black buttons before tucking his dark blue scarf into his thick coat and tugging on his gloves and earmuffs. 

He slings his backpack on and picks up his duffel bag, making sure that he locks the door securely behind him before tramping down the three and a half blocks to the nearest train station. The clouds are low and iron-gray in the sky as he makes his way slowly, slowly through the crowds of people. The earmuffs do a decent job of keeping out unwanted noises, as well as keeping his ears warm, but he still knows that the second he’s on that train he’s clamping his headphones on and blasting classical music to kingdom come. 

The attendant glances up at him with a bored, half-awake stare. “Name and destination, please?” 

Logan tells her, sliding his ticket across the counter to prove that he has it. She pops her bubblegum at him (he pretends it doesn’t send a visceral shiver down his spine) and stamps the ticket with a rubber marker. “Happy holidays, or whatever.”

“Happy holidays,” Logan mumbles, gripping his ticket tightly (but not so tightly that the paper tears). 

He shuffles onto the train and settles into a window seat, placing his bag next to him to deter anyone else from trying to sit next to him. His headphones come out, hold for seven seconds to turn them on, wait for the beep and the friendly female automated voice to say _Bluetooth. Connected!_ and then pick up the phone and hold his finger against the sensor to unlock the screen and tap tap tap at the music app and _relief_ , finally, as Gustav Holst’s _The Planets_ starts to flood into his ears. Logan exhales, looking up as the train slowly fills with people. 

He’s prepared for movement, but he still flinches when the train lurches forward. 

Outside of the conductor taking his ticket and hole-punching it, Logan is left in relative peace. He reads and annotates three more chapters of his book before the motion sickness starts to kick in, and he leans back against his seat to sleep the rest of the way. His phone vibrates with a silent alarm ten minutes before they pull into his stop, and he makes sure that he has all his belongings gathered together. 

The train screeches to a halt, and Logan carefully turns off his headphones, pausing the music and tucking them into his backpack. He peers through the rush of steam and smoke flooding the train platform, trying to spot someone familiar. 

He purposefully chose a seat near the door when he sat down; as soon as the conductor announces that they are allowed to leave, he gathers his bags and hurries out the door. He minds his step carefully as he descends onto the platform, swiftly moving out of the way of other passengers. 

“Yo! Logan!” 

Logan turns his head to see Remy leaning against a railing. He sports his signature aviators and leather jacket, and Logan does not understand how he is not freezing. “Hello, Remy. Are you not cold?” 

“Colder than a witch’s teat,” Remy responds easily.

“Why did you not dress warmer? Surely you knew the weather forecast before coming to retrieve me.”

“Of course I did.” 

“Why, then, did you dress the way you did?”

“The aesthetic, bitch.” Remy lifts a Starbucks cup and slurps at what even Logan can recognize as an iced coffee. He shivers, grins, and takes the duffel bag from Logan’s hands. “Let’s go.”

* * *

**December 25th - Christmas Day**

Logan wraps his hands around the warm mug of spiced cider Emile passes him, smiling at his twin. “Thank you, Em. I am sorry that I am not as festive as you and Remy and the rest of the party . . .” 

“There’s no need for that,” Emile says, ruffling his hair gently. “We know that you miss your husband, and I know how you are about crowds. I’m not upset with you at all.” 

Logan smiles sympathetically at his twin. “Thank you, Emile.”

“No problem, little brother!”

“We are the same age,” Logan calls at his retreating back. He takes a sip of the cider in his hand and smiles to himself. Remy is a pastry chef at a local restaurant, and it is clear in everything he makes. The cider is the perfect blend of spicy and sweet; Logan detects cinnamon, nutmeg, cloves, and even a hint of ginger among the rich apple flavor. Remy’s spiced cider is one of his favorite things about the holiday season. 

The party goes on around him, friends of Emile’s and Remy’s passing in and out of the rooms with plates of food and glasses of cider. The lights are all dimmed, so the living room is lit primarily by the large Christmas tree and the multiple strings of Christmas lights and fairy lights hung tastefully around the walls. 

Remy comes by about an hour later, with the tell-tale flush of alcohol high on his cheeks. He hands Logan a plate of various holiday foods and desserts, laughing and reaching for his glass of brandy. He’s singing along loudly to the Christmas music playing from the kitchen, and he’s kind of off-key but it’s still an essential part of Logan’s Christmas. 

He quietly snacks his way through the tasting platter Remy had brought him. Despite his initial reservations, he truly is happy to be here. Logan knows that even though he is still missing Virgil, he is happier here than he would have been sitting alone at home. 

Someone touches his shoulder, and Logan exhales softly. “I am alright, Emile. You do not need to ignore your party guests for me.” 

“Oh, Lo,” a familiar gravelly voice says, just a hint of a laugh present. “There’s no party guest I’d rather pay attention to than you.” 

Logan whirls around, empty paper plate falling to the ground as he stands up. Virgil is standing in front of him, still wearing his heavy leather bomber jacket, rolling suitcase at his feet. Before Logan can react, before he can even breathe, Virgil’s arms are around him. He lifts Logan up into the air, twirling them around as best he can in the limited space before leaning back and gently rubbing his nose against Logan’s. 

“Hey there, my star,” Virgil hums. Logan feels the tears welling up in his eyes, and for once he makes no effort to fight them back. He leans in and kisses Virgil, taking in his chapped lips and the warmth of his hands on his hips and the softness of Virgil’s hair as he locks his hands around his neck. 

“You - you’re _here_ ,” Logan whispers. “But - but you said - you said -!”

“I know what I said,” Virgil says. “I never meant to intentionally mislead you, Lo. I truly didn’t think I’d be home for Christmas this year.” 

“What changed?” 

“I’ve been applying for new jobs for a few months now. Better jobs. Jobs that are closer to home.” _Closer to you_ , he doesn’t say, but Logan can read it in the crinkle of his eyes. “One of them got back to me while I was out on that shitty work job. I got hired, Lo. I’ll be running the IT department at a local college, which means that I’ll only have to travel there and back. I - Lo, I won’t be gone anymore.” 

Logan laughs wetly. “You - you’re - you’re _home_. You’re home, and I - this -”

“I got the call about getting the job on the twenty-third,” Virgil says. “I quit my old job right there and then, I hopped on the first bus I could, and I came right home to you. That’s why I was so insistent on you coming to Emi’s holiday party. I knew his house was closer than ours, so I thought I could make it here to surprise you.”

Logan presses his mouth to Virgil’s again, locking his legs around his husband’s waist as Virgil sits on the couch where Logan had been. One of Virgil’s hands comes up to cup his face, and Logan shivers happily when he feels the cold weight of Virgil’s wedding ring press against his cheek. 

“I love you,” Virgil breathes. “I love you, Logan. Merry Christmas.” 

“Merry Christmas,” Logan replies, and Virgil leans up to kiss him again and again and again.

**Author's Note:**

> come scream at me on tumblr! // [@teacupfulofstarshine](https://teacupfulofstarshine.tumblr.com)


End file.
